Trail of Secrets

by Brenda Chapman

  I called out for Roxie as I opened the front door with my house key.

  “In the kitchen,” she called back, and I followed the smell of hot chocolate to find her at the kitchen table with two steaming mugs on a place mat in front of her. She looked at me, “I had the water on boil and watched for you out the living room window. You’re late.” Her eyes were reproachful.

  “Sorry. Oh, you are some kind of wonderful,” I said, dropping my bag onto the floor and slipping into a chair. I wrapped my hands around the mug and lifted it to my nose. “Mmmm. Chocolate.” I took a few sips. “How was your day? Did your presentation go well?”

  “Mrs. Stoyko called.”

  “And?”

  “Mr. Stoyko won’t be home until Monday at the earliest. He’s had a setback.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, though.”

  Roxie looked at me for a second like she was trying to organize something in her brain. “Usually, when somebody’s done something nice for me, they’ve wanted something back. I can’t figure out what’s in it for you and your family. The Stoykos get paid to take me in, so that makes sense.”

  “We don’t want anything from you.” I wondered why Roxie was questioning us all of a sudden.

  She studied me a moment longer. I noticed she’d caked on the mascara and eyeliner again. She hadn’t done that for several weeks. Then she said, “Every time I’ve thought it might work out for me, something’s gone bad. If Mr. Stoyko dies, I won’t be too surprised. It’s not good to get attached to anyone.”

  “He’s not going to die. You can’t think that way.”

  “I’m going to lie down,” Roxie said, standing and stretching her arms over her head. “I’m tired and don’t feel like working tonight.”

  “But Roxie, we should talk about this.”

  “Not now, Jen. I really don’t feel so great.”

  “But don’t you want your hot chocolate?”

  Roxie reached over and grabbed the mug handle. “I’ll drink it in my room.”

  Dad phoned to say that he’d be working late, and I never got a chance to tell him my worries about Roxie, who’d spent the entire evening shut away in her room. Dad slept through breakfast the next day, and Roxie spent a really long time in the bathroom, so I missed another opportunity to talk to them before I left for school.

  “Everyone’s gotten all weird,” I muttered to myself. “Roxie’s retreated, Ambie’s keeping secrets, Pete’s got a new life, Dad’s turned into a workaholic, and who knows what’s up with Evan. The world has gone mad.”

  When I went to bed that night, I was no closer to any answers. Those were to start coming on Friday.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I waited twenty minutes for Ambie in our meeting spot next to the oak tree until I couldn’t wait any longer without being late for class. I took one last look up the street and slowly started towards the main entrance. Ambie hadn’t told me she was going to be away, so maybe she was just running late. This was the first week her mom started working at the bakery, and the Guido family schedule might have been thrown off. It wasn’t like Ambie to be late, though. She was pretty self-sufficient.

  I met Evan at the door to our classroom. His blonde hair was newly trimmed, and his blue eyes looked rested.

  “You look well today,” I said.

  “Yeah. I’m feeling a lot better. You look a little worried.”

  “No, it’s nothing. Just that Ambie was supposed to meet me before school, and she never showed up.”

  “She might have just gotten held up.”

  “You’re probably right, but it’s not like her.”

  “Move along, kids. Find your seats,” Mr. Williams said as he wiped off the chalk board.

  I started towards my desk. When I glanced back at Evan, I realized he’d never admitted before that he wasn’t feeling well. Had he been sick?

  The class seemed to drag. Mr. Williams spent the entire period lecturing about matter and energy exchange in ecosystems. “The biosphere is made up of biomes, each containing many different ecosystems,” he began. I’d have to say that was the most understandable part of his lesson. Mr. Williams was famous for talking over our heads, and I knew I’d have to read the chapter if I wanted to understand anything about ecosystems.

  I looked over at Toby Manning. His eyes had closed by minute five of the lecture. By the ten minute mark, he was snoring softly, and his friends were pelting him with spitballs whenever Mr. Williams turned to write something on the board. I wasn’t surprised when six names were called out for detention at the end of the period, including Toby’s.

  Evan was waiting for me at the door. “I’m not going to miss these lessons when we move,” he said.

  “That’s right. This was your last biology class.”

  We started walking down the hall. I spotted Cindy and Rosemary with their heads together standing next to the water fountain. Cindy saw me and said something to Rosemary, as if they were having an argument. Evan looked over at them too.

  “I wonder what that’s all about,” I said under my breath.

  “They probably don’t like seeing you associating with me,” Evan said. “I’ve been told I have a reputation.”

  “They’re not like that. Besides, your reputation is more on the mysterious side.”

  Evan grinned at me. “See you later, Jennifer.”

  “See you.” I was almost at Madame Grégoire’s door when I heard Cindy call my name. She was standing near the lockers across the hall, and Rosemary wasn’t with her. I stepped around a few groups of students to stand in front of her.

  “What’s up, Cindy?” I asked

  Cindy twirled a strand of red hair as she spoke. Her eyes were worried. “Rosemary said I shouldn’t say anything, but I thought you should know.”

  “Know what? Is this about Ambie?”

  “Yeah. It’s about Ambie.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Not really, but I know she’s meeting her dad.”

  “Mr. Guido? Is that why she’s late?” I was starting to sound like a game show where they ask questions for points. Getting information out of Cindy was hard work.

  “No, her real dad. We wouldn’t have known, except Rosemary read an e-mail Ambie’d printed off when we were over visiting a few days ago. The note was lying by Ambie’s phone. She made us promise not to tell.”

  I grabbed Cindy’s arm. “Where did Ambie say she was meeting him? You have to think—it’s important.”

  “I . . . she never said. I don’t know,” Cindy wailed. “Oh, my god. Is Ambie in trouble?”

  I tried to calm down. “No, nothing like that. You did the right thing telling me.”

  Cindy looked relieved. “Well, gotta go. See you later, Jennifer.” She spun around and sped away without looking back.

  I turned to go into Madame Grégoire’s classroom but knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Instead I slipped past the door and ran towards the nearest side door out of the building. I needed to find Ambie before she got herself into something she might regret.

  I slung my knapsack over my shoulder and started running as fast as I could towards Ambie’s house. She lived closer to the school than I did, and I was at her back door within fifteen minutes. I knocked sharply on the window, already knowing that Ambie’s parents were at work. I was half-hoping Ambie would answer the door, but no such luck. I dropped my bag and darted over to Mrs. Guido’s herb garden. Kneeling down, I felt under the rock border until my fingers wrapped around a key. I pulled it out and raced back to the house.

  Once inside, I checked the kitchen and saw a note lying on the table. I picked it up. It was addressed to Ambie’s parents. I hesitated for a second but knew I had to find out what Ambie had written. I unfolded it and read. It was worse than I thought. Ambie had lied and said she was spending the night with Rosemary to work on a project and watch a movie. She also said she’d phone around suppertime. I folded the note and put it back on th
e table.

  Then I jogged down the hall to Ambie’s room. I took a quick survey of her things but nothing looked out of place. She’d made her bed and folded her pajamas on the chair under the window. She was always tidier than me—something we used to joke about. I turned on her computer, and while it was starting up, I checked through her papers. The e-mail that Rosemary had seen didn’t look to be anywhere around. I checked the floor and in the garbage but found nothing.

  I clicked on her e-mail and skimmed the incoming messages. There was nothing from Martin Donaldson. The folder titled Research was empty of messages. Ambie had cleaned it out. I was luckier when I clicked on the folder marked “trash”. She’d emptied it recently but had missed an e-mail from Martin Donaldson dated the night before. I said a silent prayer and clicked it open.

  Dearest Ambie,

  I’m so looking forward to seeing you tomorrow! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you again for sending the loan—I’m really upset with my Hong Kong bank for tying up my money like they have, but I’ll be paying you back with interest. Without your help, we’d have had to wait until next year, I’m afraid. I’m working on a project that’s taking all my time and resources.

  Well I shouldn’t go on about money when what I’m really interested in is you and our visit! My flight gets in at three—Air Canada flight 320. I’ll meet you just outside the baggage claim. (You’ll know me by my big, happy smile.) Seriously, I have the picture you sent and will have no trouble picking you out. We’ll have a nice meal, and Suki and I’ll rent a car and drive you back to Springhills whatever time you like. I’ve booked a place nearby for a few days.

  See you soon

  Martin (Dad)

  I gulped and pressed print. Then I started the internet and checked Air Canada flights. Flight 320 was coming from Calgary and landing at Toronto Airport. I printed the flight information too then shut down the computer. I’d have to go home, get some money and figure out how to get to Toronto. Ambie had a few hours head start on me, but at least now I knew where to find her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I was out of breath by the time I entered our front hallway. I dropped my knapsack near the door—it had started to feel like a sack of cement—and skidded down the hallway towards the kitchen. I almost collided with Roxie, who was taking a bite out of a peanut butter sandwich just inside the kitchen doorway.

  “Umph,” she grunted. She swallowed and said, “Geez, where’s the fire?”

  I took a step backwards. “It’s Ambie,” I gasped. “She’s gone to Toronto to meet her real dad. I think something is wrong.”

  “Ambie doesn’t question people’s motives very often, does she?” Roxie said, her eyes narrowing. “Is this the father she’s never seen?”

  I nodded, trying to keep the panic from getting higher than my esophagus. “His name’s Martin Donaldson. He’s been e-mailing her but asked her not to tell anybody. It looks like she’s sent him some money, not a good sign. Ambie’s wanted to meet her real father as far back as I can remember . . .”

  “Where’s she meeting him?”

  “Toronto Airport. Air Canada. Three o’clock.” I realized that I was spitting out words in groups of two.

  “I’ll get my jacket. I have some money saved, and I’ll go get it. Write your dad a note, and let’s get going.”

  “What’ll I say?”

  “Say we’ve gone out for the evening with Ambie. We’ll probably be back before he reads it.”

  “Okay,” I said to Roxie’s disappearing back, wondering why I was listening to a thirteen-year-old. Still, a big part of me was extremely pleased not to have to find my way around Toronto alone. Roxie’d grown up in the city and had spent a lot of time running the streets when she’d been skipping school. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and my purse and heavier jacket from the coat hook by the back door. I met Roxie at the front door.

  “What are you doing home from school this time of day?” I asked as I swung the door open.

  Roxie pulled a red toque over her pink hair. “Spare,” she said, racing past me and down the front steps.

  “I don’t remember getting spares in Grade Eight,” I called as I hurried to catch up.

  Roxie pretended she didn’t hear me. “Let’s get going!” she yelled. “We might just make it there by the time the plane lands.”

  It took me a few minutes to convince Roxie that there was no way I was going to hitchhike to Toronto. I guess Mom’s lectures had sunk in, because I’d long ago decided the dangers of getting into a stranger’s car far outweighed any possible benefits. Even saving money on a bus ride wasn’t enough to make me put out my thumb or agree to let Roxie stick out hers.

  “You’re just a big fraidy cat,” Roxie finally said, exasperated, scowling at me as if I was the one being unreasonable.

  “Yeah . . . well . . . I say I’m just a big smarty cat,” I said and was rewarded with her lopsided grin. “Come on. Let’s go make the next bus,” I added.

  Roxie and I were double-timing down Armstrong Street towards the bus terminal when I heard a car slowing behind us. When it didn’t pass us, I turned and pulled Roxie by the arm towards the curb. “Look out,” I said.

  We watched a silver-grey car edge past us and pull over several yards ahead with the turn signal flashing. The driver’s window lowered. Roxie and I looked at each other, deciding which way to run. I tried to angle myself in front of her.

  “Jennifer!” I heard, and we took a step closer. A blond head and wide smile peered out at us.

  “What are you doing here, Evan?” I asked.

  “Looking for you. Want a lift?”

  “Only if you’re going to Toronto Airport,” I said.

  “That’s exactly where I’m heading,” Evan smiled. “Don’t worry. I got the whole story out of Cindy after a bit of guilt-tripping.”

  “Great,” I said and pulled Roxie with me around the back of the car toward the passenger door. Roxie scooted into the back seat, and I sat up front with Evan. “Where did this car come from?” I asked.

  “This one’s actually . . . uh . . . mine.”

  “It’s a Jaguar, isn’t it?” I asked, and for the first time, I began to believe that Evan’s family really could be into something illegal—something illegal that was worth a lot of money.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. Roxie was looking at Evan’s reflection in the rearview mirror, and her eyes were as big as quarters. “Aren’t you Evan Myers?” she asked, her voice rising into the higher range. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement I heard in her voice.

  “Hi,” Evan said, turning to smile at Roxie. “Let’s get moving.”

  Traffic was heavy going into Toronto on the 401, and there was an accident that held us up on the airport parkway. I was getting pretty nervous and didn’t want to talk with all the worried thoughts scrambling around in my head like bumblebees. Evan had the radio turned up loud, and the music filled in the empty spaces. When we finally started moving and the airport came into view, I checked my watch. It was almost three thirty. Ambie would probably be long gone from the arrivals area by the time we found a parking spot. Evan seemed to read my mind. He reached over and turned down the volume.

  “I’ll pull up to the front entrance, and you and Roxie can go find Ambie while I park.”

  I looked across at him and nodded. “I hope we aren’t too late,” I said and went back to checking cars going in the opposite direction to see if Ambie was in one of them. At last we pulled up in front, and I hopped out. Roxie scrambled out of the back seat, and we ran for the revolving door. I stopped and tried to read the signs. When I looked around, Roxie was standing under a screen suspended from the ceiling. “The flight was on time,” she said. “The arrivals area is this way.”

  We walked quickly, following the signs that led the way to the arrivals. The noise level was high, and every so often, a woman’s voice made announcements over the sound system in English and French. I looked at the
flight numbers above my head. The fear that we’d missed Ambie hit me like a sick feeling in my stomach. What if she’d been lured into a meeting with someone who wasn’t her real father? What should we do next? Call her parents and try to explain? Call the police?

  I couldn’t see Ambie anywhere. I turned and touched Roxie on the shoulder. “We should go find Evan.” My voice faltered. “I’m not sure where they’ve taken her.”

  “It might be okay, Jennifer. Maybe her dad really does just want to meet her.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, but it didn’t feel right. I started leading Roxie back towards the exit.

  We were out the door when I saw Ambie, alone—sitting on a bench, looking down at the floor with her hands clasped in front of her. She was wearing her good blue duffle coat, and she’d curled her hair so that it hung in tendrils around her face. A gift wrapped in silver paper with a red bow sat next to her on the bench. She looked so sad and dejected that I stopped and watched her for a second.

  Roxie bumped into me from behind. “What are you . . .”

  I reached around my hand to stop her. “Wait here,” I said. “It’ll be okay. Just wait.” I walked across the carpet towards Ambie and sat down next to her so that our arms touched. She raised her head and looked at me, startled for a second before a smile flashed and was gone. Her eyes quickly filled with tears.

  “Jen. He didn’t come. My dad didn’t come.”

  I put my arm around Ambie’s shoulders, and she leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder. “It’s his loss, Amb,” I said. “He’s got no idea what he’s just thrown away.”

  We sat like that for a minute until she was over the worst of it. I looked over her head and saw Evan and Roxie talking. Evan met my eyes, but they kept their distance until Ambie and I got to our feet. Then they rushed over and encircled Ambie, and we had a group hug as if she’d just arrived home after being away on a long trip.